


Qui dormit non peccat

by InsaneSociopath



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Fic, Gift Fic, Insomnia, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneSociopath/pseuds/InsaneSociopath
Summary: This is quite possibly the most ridiculous assignment Chris has ever been given.He's aCaptainfor God sake, not a damnbaby-sitter!And yet here he is, running around campus, looking for whatever weird place Cadet Kirk has gone and fallen asleep in now.





	Qui dormit non peccat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesoundofnat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofnat/gifts).



> Birthday Fic for [the soundofnat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofnat/pseuds/thesoundofnat), based on her prompt of: Do you think you would be able to write Chris finding Jim sleeping in random places because the kid is exhausted?
> 
> Tumblr version available [HERE](http://insane-sociopath.tumblr.com/post/165470078728/qui-dormit-non-peccat)
> 
>  **Qui dormit non peccat** : He who sleeps, does not sin (Chris _wishes_ this were true)

“Oh for god sake,” Commodore Osprey sighs, stopping in the middle of the path.

“What?” Chris asks, pausing beside her and trying to follow her gaze.

“It’s that damn Kirk boy again Captain,” Osprey grunts, rolling her eyes and drooping her shoulders.

“Kirk? Cadet Kirk? James T. Kirk?”

“The one and the same,” comes the dry reply. “He’s a chronic pain in the ass.”

“I’ve only met him the once, but I can believe it sir,” Chris nods, still glancing round trying to spot the young man.

“Only the once? Lucky guy. I swear if I ever find out who recruited him last year, I’m going to string them up and take my revenge out on their hide.”

“Wow, that bad huh?” Chris swallows nervously, carefully keeping his face blank and innocent.

“Oh you have no idea. Well, I suppose we better go rouse him and drag him inside at the very least.”

“Rouse him?” Chris asks surprised, still not having managed to spot the Cadet.

“He’s asleep in that tree,” Osprey grumbles, nodding across the fountain square towards the copse at the edge of campus. 

Chris squints along the tree line, and sure enough there’s a red-clad body draped across the lower branches of the big old oak next to the path down to the bay. 

“How do you know that’s Kirk sir?” 

“Oh trust me Pike, if there’s a Cadet sleeping somewhere random or somewhere they shouldn’t be, you can instantly guarantee that it’ll be Kirk.”

* * *

“Captain Pike!” Kirk exclaims cheerfully, swinging down to the ground and landing nimbly in front of the Commodore. “I haven’t seen you for what? Over 14 months now? Not since you ditched me in the recruitment centre back on my first day here!”

Chris notes with some concern that there are bags under his eyes deeper than the mine shafts on the Gara-Yantu asteroid cluster.

“You’re the one who brought him here?” Osprey mutters murderously beside him.

“Cadet Kirk.” Chris nods professionally, wincing internally but opting to ignore the Commodore and hope for the best. “I hope the academy’s been treating you well in my absence?”

“It’s brilliant here sir!” Kirk enthuses, his eyes lighting up. “There’s so many courses to choose from, and actual intellectual challenges! And you can have proper debates with the professors without getting told to sit down, shut up and keep your opinions to yourself!”

“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying it son,” Chris smiles, a little taken aback by the kid’s unexpected passion.

“Kirk,” Osprey interrupts, voice a little sharp, “when was the last time you slept in a proper bed?”

“Last time I slept sir?” Kirk smiles wanly, “I was just asleep now. Must have been out for a good thirty minutes or so sir.”

“I specified in a proper bed Cadet. Now answer the damn question non-evasively.”

“Don’t you think beds are so over-rated Captain?” Jim shrugs, swivelling to look at Chris pleadingly. Chris silently raises an eyebrow and wonders if he should have stayed in space for another six months after all. 

“Cadet!” Osprey barks, her eyes narrowing in irritation. Kirk pales, but keeps his eyes locked onto Chris’.

“I was in the library last night,” the young man rambles, “Finishing my Vulcan ethics paper. And I started my flight data statistics too. And then I had Command PT this morning followed by advanced hand-to-hand with the security track cohort, and I’ve got first-aid coursework to work on and Xenolinguists society to attend and I promised Lieutenant J’ord that I’d fix his bike nav-panel for him and-”

“Stars above Kirk!” the Commodore groans. “It’s been at least three days again hasn’t it? At least!”

“No…” Kirk draws out slowly and entirely insincerely. 

“We have talked about this over and over Cadet,” Osprey growls. “You have been dragged to review meetings about it, hospitalised for it, you’ve got half the damn academy staff and nearly _all_ of the Earth-based flag officers nagging you over it. You are human and you need regular, undisturbed sleep!”

“But-!”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Grab your bag and follow us Cadet.”

Chris watches the exchange with growing alarm, and then falls into step behind the Commodore when she grips Kirk’s arm and stalks off determinedly.

* * *

“Congratulations Captain, I’ve just thought of the perfect first assignment for your ground posting.”

Chris swallows back a groan, knowing damn well it’s going to be related to the young man Osprey is shoving into the open dorm room before them.

“Jantey!” Kirk calls cheerily as he stumbles into what must be his room. “How are you this fine evening?” 

“Piss off Kirk,” comes a low grunt, out of Chris’ view. 

“As you may have gathered Captain,” Osprey continues, stepping into the small undergraduate dorm with her back straight and hands clasped behind her back, “Kirk has a bit of a problem understanding how necessary a regimented sleeping pattern is. So as you brought him here and inflicted him on us all, you get to be the one to herd him round and force him to bed routinely. I’ll make sure the rest of your superiors know.”

Chris winces and forces himself to make a vaguely acknowledging noise, before shuffling through the doorway too. 

The room inside is as cramped and tiny as Chris remembers his first Academy dorm being too. One half is…. Well trashed basically. Clothes strewn everywhere, PADDs scattered about, empty mugs, crumb covered plates, probably damp towels, and an unmade bed. The other side by comparison is near-spotless and neatly organised.

Surprisingly it’s this latter area that Kirk has moved to and sat on the edge of the bunk in. 

“Jacket and pants off Kirk,” Osprey barks out. “I’ll not be dealing with yet more reports of you showing up to classes in sleep rumpled uniform.”

“Kinky,” Kirk smirks back weakly, pitching a wink at Chris to Chris’ bafflement.

“Rascal,” Osprey grumbles back with no little fondness. “Eight hours minimum kid. Or I’ll have your ass dragged to Medical and hypoed into oblivion.”

“Sir yes, sir,” Kirk grins, hauling his jacket off and mussing his already scruffy hair even further.

“Oh and Cadet Jantey,” Osprey says sternly as she motions Chris to proceed her back out into the hallway, “Clean this pig sty up. Lest you find yourself on mess hall scullery duty for the next three months.”

* * *

* * *

Kirk is. 

A

Goddamn

Nightmare.

“He was in the bell tower of the old multi-faith building behind the Reed building,” Chris grumbles, throwing himself down on to the couch beside Phil. Pressing his face into his husband’s chest and sighing, he allows himself to go boneless.

“I keep telling you love, you need to put a tracker on him,” Phil chuckles, threading his hand into the back of Chris’ hair. Chris makes an approving noise and nudges back against Phil’s hand.

“Starfleet Captain,” Phil snorts fondly at him, “More like a damn cat.”

“Mmm,” Chris agrees with a hidden smirk. “I wish. If I was, I might be able to find the brat easier.”

“Tracker,” Phil singsongs.

“I’m gonna bring him to you so you can stick one in the back of his neck with a hypo.”

“Actually, please do. I have it on good authority that he’s overdue for his annual physical too.”

“If you go fetch the leftover Nova-Italian out of the fridge, I promise I’ll try and drag him to Medical at the first opportunity.”

“Yeah okay. Let me up then sweetheart.”

Chris considers his options carefully.

“Nope, changed my mind,” he mumbles, burying his face more and tightening his arms around his husband. “More petting now, food later.”

“You really are a damn cat,” Phil sighs fondly.

* * *

* * *

“Jantey for fuck sake,” Chris growls, kicking his way through the assorted detritus piled on the floor of the dorm. “It’s no fucking wonder that Kirk never sleeps in his own bed! This place is a goddamn death trap!”

Jantey shrugs uncaring, not even bothering to turn away from his desk. Chris contemplates killing the security track Cadet for the second time this week, before pulling his PADD out of his inner jacket pocket and quickly sending _yet another_ goddamn disciplinary notice to the Academic Board.

Smirking to himself as Jantey receives a notification about the hearing from the Board and groans loudly, Chris hops over the last obstacle in his path and kneels atop Kirk’s neatly made bed with a sigh of relief. Crawling to the end, he leans over, pushes a stack of (muddy and damp _and gross,_ for fuck sake) clothing out of the way, and hauls open the top drawer under Kirk’s wardrobe unit. 

Pointedly ignoring the stack of boxers shoved haphazardly over a pile of tubes, foil squares and black leather and fur, he reaches into the other end of the space with a grimace, and yanks out a couple of pairs of Jim’s sleep pants; one blue and green plaid, the other black and covered in thousands of stars and miniature planets. 

Leaning back with a groan as his back cracks, Chris shoves the two items of clothing in his satchel, and then turns to glower at the health hazard blocking his path back towards the door.

* * *

The small blinking light on the screen of his PADD remains steady atop his own location marker. Chris sighs and peers straight upwards at the ventilation piping running above his head. With another sigh, he hefts the wooden broom in his hand that he’d grabbed from by the door, and bashes the handle end against the metal several times.

“Jesus fuck!” comes Kirk’s startled screech, accompanied by a series of echoing bangs as he undoubtedly smacks his head against the inner roof of the shaft.

“Get down here Cadet,” Chris hollers, crossing his arms and trying not to snicker.

“Captain Pike,” Jim replies resigned, “As anyone ever told you that you’re a right bastard?”

“You can buy me a drink on the way back to my house, and I’ll pretend that I didn’t just hear that!”

“Ugh, maybe sir. I’ll think ab- Wait? What do you mean _your_ house?”

* * *

“Arrr Jimmy mi’ lad,” Phil growls playfully, leaning on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Really Phil?” Chris smiles, huffing in faux exaggeration as he prods Kirk in through his front door.

“Well calling him Cadet Kirk all the time just seems so impersonal! At the very least you ought to call him James or Jim while’s he’s in our house.”

“Oh my gawwd,” Chris drawls dramatically, throwing his hands in the air and trying to sound as camp as possible, “Sooooo de _man_ ding. Can you _believe_ this Jim? The sheer. Damn. _Nerve_ of this man!”

“God boy,” Phil smirks, sauntering over to smack Chris on the butt, “Now, dinner will be on the table in five, so both of you go wash up.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Jim announces very loudly as Chris grabs the young man’s wrist and pulls him into the utility room and towards the corner sink.

* * *

“Seriously, why am I here?” Jim sighs into his bowl of noodles, poking at them with his chopsticks. 

“Because you don’t sleep if you’re left unsupervised.” Phil replies neutrally as he reaches over and grabs another handful of prawn crackers.

“I was sleeping right before I got dragged here though…” Jim grumbles.

“In a cramped, dusty air vent,” Chris snorts quietly. Jim shoots him a unimpressed look. 

“Chris and I stalked all your friends and discovered that McCoy, Vro, Mitchell, Bazz’y and Uhura are all off campus for the weekend,” Phil continues, “And there’s no way in hell we’re trusting your creepy disgusting roommate to look after you. So here you are.”

“I’m not that irresponsible!” Jim protests.

Chris and Phil exchange a look and then burst out laughing.

* * *

Phil goes to force Jim into their water shower and provide him with a stack of towels and a new toothbrush while Chris tackles the stack of washing up. Just as he shoves the last of the day’s plates into the sonic dishwasher, Phil slides up behind him and pulls him back against his chest. 

“You’re doing great with him baby,” the doctor hums into his shoulder. “I know he tries your patience a lot of the time, but you’re so good with him anyway.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Chris grumbles.

“Well thank-you for letting him stay here with us.”

“It was your idea honey.”

“But you’re the one who agreed with the idea and then went and found him and brought him back here, to _our_ home. That means you get as much credit as I do.”

“I suppose so,” Chris sighs tiredly, leaning his head back so that Phil can breathe warmly against the side of his neck. 

“You bet so,” Phil smiles, shifting to mouth at the lobe of Chris’ ear.

* * *

* * *

“Okay, where is he?” Cadet McCoy grouses as he barges into Chris’ command office, tacking on a “sir” as a clear afterthought.

“I assume you mean Kirk,” Chris answers blandly, not looking up from his paperwork.

“Well obviously.” 

And Chris can _hear_ the young doctor’s eyeroll. He stops typing and glances up to stare McCoy down, both eyebrows raised. 

McCoy doesn’t shuffle self-consciously, meeting his gaze just as unimpressed.

“Oh fuck it,” Chris mumbles, looking away resignedly after several long minutes, “Can never win a sodding staring contest with a doctor; you lot are worse than Vulcans. Alright, come here you rebel and I’ll pull up the GPS coordinates.”

* * *

“You really don’t have to come with me Captain,” McCoy repeats again.

“He’s lying on a park bench in the pouring rain. You can bet your damn medical license I’m coming with you.”

* * *

* * *

Sore, tired and just generally miserable, Chris pushes his way into his office with every intention of staying only as long as it took to download the report forms to his PADD before heading home to Phil.

Stomping to the back of the room, he flicks the monitor on his desk on and then collapses into his desk chair with a pained groan.

And then jumps six feet upwards when his feet collide with something warm and wriggling. 

“You look like shit Pike,” Kirk yawns.

“Jesus fuck son,” Chris pants, begging his heart rate to slow down again, “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” Kirk smiles, entirely unapologetic.

“Why the hell are you under my desk!?”

“Warm. Dry. Smells safe?”

Chris pulls a face.

“ _Smells_ safe!? Okay now you’re just being creepy. Come on, I’m taking you to McCoy.”

* * *

* * *

“Um Captain?” Lieutenant G’rodie asks nervously, “You wouldn’t have a minute would you?”

“To do what?”

G’rodie’s antenna twitch.

“He errr… Kirk that is- well he hasn’t left the tactical simulator computer lab for over 36 hours now sir…”

Chris shuts his eyes and cusses repeatedly under his breathe.

* * *

“James T. Kirk!” Chris shouts, stomping into the programming centre.

“No!” Kirk yells back cheerfully.

Chris stalks over glaring, notes the deep bags under the boy’s eyes, and then hauls him out of his chair by his ear.

* * *

Ten minutes of listening to the lad whine and beg later, and Chris gives in and drags him back to his office and his small couch rather than making him go back to his Jantey-infested room.

* * *

* * *

After finding him curled up and near-frozen on the floor outside the library doors a week later, Chris decides his last thread of patience has snapped, and group-Comms Commodore Osprey and Admiral Nogura to ask for a favour. 

“Please, for the love of everything holy.” Chris pleads. “I don’t care what I have to do to manage it, but please get the boy his own room. With a damn en-suite bathroom. And move McCoy into the same building as a live-in babysitter.”

“Oh just a small favour then,” Nogura drawls sarcastically.

“I will sell you my soul and lend you my husband if you can get them into some halls near my place.”

“Pretty sure you already sold us your soul when you signed up for Starfleet Christopher,” Osprey chuckles.

“My first-born child then.”

“I think at this point we can consider Kirk to be your first born,” Nogura states dryly, “and there’s no way I’m accepting him.”

“What the hell do you want then?” Chris groans. “Honestly, there’s not a lot I would say no to right now.”

Nogura grins malevolently. 

“You spend an extra year grounded and then you don’t go back to the Yorktown. In fact, you’ll let us decommission her.”

Chris stares at the open Vid-link in mute horror.

“But-” he whimpers.

“And you take Spock as your first officer permanently. No more of this “we’ll see” business. Number One isn’t going to give her own ship up for you.”

“But-” he whimpers again.

“In exchange, I’ll see to it that Kirk _and_ McCoy get a suite in the new postgraduate halls just down the road from yours.”

“But my baby,” Chris whines.

“If you also do Commodore S’zorz teaching until next Christmas, I will convince Archer and Marcus to let you have the Enterprise when she launches. 

Chris’ jaw snaps shut.

“The Enterprise?” he asks tentatively. “The new _flagship_ Enterprise? That Enterprise?”

“NCC-1701 will be all yours if you teach advanced tactics to the upperclassmen, give Spock a permanent posting, and make sure Kirk stays alive long enough to graduate.”

Chris screws his eyes up, and takes a deep breath. 

“Okay then,” he near-squeaks. As much as man with his tone of voice is able to anyway. 

“I’m sending a notice to the Quartermaster Division now. And then I’m going to Comm Admiral Marcus. _You_ are going to go sit on the bench behind you until Doctor Boyce comes to collect you.”

“Okay,” Chris shudders.

“Oh, one last thing,” Osprey chips in as Chris stumbles backwards to collapse onto the wooden park bench. “I’m going to make Kirk apply for an Enterprise posting for after he graduates. And you’re not going to reject his request. On pain of death.”

“Pain of death!? But Spock will probably kill him in less than-!” Chris starts to complain. But all he gets are two matching shrugs before the connection cuts out and he’s left staring at blank screen.

“Well that happened,” he mutters to himself, hands still shaking.

* * *

* * *

“Did you put him to bed yet?” Phil calls down the stairs as he shuts the front door behind him.

“Put him to bed? He’s twenty-five love!”

“I know he is, but did you finish putting him to bed?”

Chris sighs and throws his scarf onto the coatrack, squinting up at where Phil was now leaning over the landing banister. 

“Yes, okay. I gave him to McCoy with instructions to make him sleep.”

“Have those two gotten engaged yet? They’ve only got 3 more months before they graduate and we all ship out. I caught them making out in a supply room in the ER yesterday actually. Leonard had his hands down Jim’s pants.”

“Jesus Phil, I don’t want to know,” Chris cringes.

“Aw come on, they’re cute together!”

“If I’d have known Nogura would put them in the same suite of rooms, I never would have agreed to his demands.”

“Ha! Pull the other one,” Phil grins, winking at him. “I’ve seen the way your eyes glaze over and you grin at nothing when someone mentions the Enterprise around you. I’m starting to feel like there’s a third person in this marriage!”

“Oh yeah? She’s a damn pretty lady, but I can come prove that there‘s just us two?” Chris smirks challengingly. 

“Oh you’re on space boy.”

Phil has already discarded his shirt and undervest by the time Chris makes it to the top of the stairs.

* * *

Chris is lying happily on his husband’s chest, sated and dozing, when his PADD starts buzzing from atop his bedside cabinet.

Groaning and wincing a little as he comes unstuck from Phil’s chest, he rolls over until he can grab the device and peer it’s overly bright screen. 

“Oh for god’s sake,” he moans, clapping his hand over his eyes.

“What?” Phil asks sleepily. 

“Leo sent me a picture,” he mutters distastefully, “of Jim asleep.”

“Yeah? Surely that’s a good thing?”

“I’m ninety percent sure that Leo put him to sleep the same way you just put me out. And I definitely just saw more of Jim than I ever wanted to.”

Phil snorts.

“Well at least he _is_ asleep. Where did you find him this time anyway?”

Chris smirks, his good cheer suddenly returning. 

“In your office. On top of your shelving units.”

Phil pulls a face. 

“ _My_ office? I’m entirely blaming you for this. You’re the one who accidently pseudo-adopted the Kelvin-baby.”

Chris simply shrugs and rolls back to lie pressed against Phil’s chest again.

“All your fault,” Phil mutters again. “Now go back to sleep sweet pea.”

And, knowing that Jim is finally asleep too, Chris does.

**Author's Note:**

> My increasingly active[Tumblr](http://insane-sociopath.tumblr.com/). I sometimes post shorts and one-shots there exclusively so check it out :)


End file.
